A/N: Hello everyone! Here goes another chapter in Charlotte's and Brandon's story. We're all used to the happy times but any roadtrip in life has a few bumps along the way. As happy as everything seems, it's far from perfect. 

I hope you all like it. Please vote and comment as usual, I appreciate it. 

I want to dedicate this specifically to anotherdamnstory for making me see something special in what I do.

This also goes out to all of us who wished at one time or another that we could conquer the world instead of letting it conquer us—only to find that courage in someone's example. To those who consider Charlotte an inspiration, I'm truly humbled and blessed that I'm able to share her with you and shine some of her light where you need it in your life. =)

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“It’s an octagon. Okto means eight.”

My brows raised at Mattie’s confident statement as he leaned over the table and pointed the tip of his pencil to each side of the polygon on Rose’s coloring book, counting them out loud.

Rose scrunched up her little nose as she followed Mattie’s finger during his count. She peered up at him, her brown eyes big with curiosity. “Is that why the okthopus has eight arms?”

Mattie smiled and nodded. “Yes. That’s one reason they gave it that name.”

The little girl nodded solemnly, as if digesting that bit of information and filing it away with grave intent.

Everything’s strange and fascinating in the eyes of a child. They see the world without the filter of painful experiences. I sometimes envy that.

I couldn’t help the smile on my face as I watched the two resume their coloring.

It was several days later and I was baby-sitting both kids.

Martin had to go out of town for the weekend to see a new specialist in Seattle and Aimee had a graveyard shift at the hospital. 

I rounded up the kids and took them back with me to the condo where I set them up to bunk with each other in one of the guest bedrooms that had two twin beds.

The two of them were now sprawled on the floor, dressed in their pajamas and hunched over their coloring and sketch books. I was sitting on the couch and reading through the request letters of the two-hundred-plus charities vying for the Championettes’ assistance. 

Yes, that many.

The Society wasn't a charity in itself really. It was originally patterned from a sort-of gentlewomen's group, ergo, socialites who had time and monetary resources at their disposal. They started endorsing charity groups until it eventually became the main thing the Society was known for. 

Hundreds of requests come to the Society but they only picked one to add to the three they constantly did every year—the Art Foundation, the Children's Hospital, and the St. Bartholomew Youth Home (for children who couldn't stay in foster care). 

The privilege to become the fourth and biggest charity fundraiser the Society did each year was much coveted, and it was up to the board to select among the requests the one that would best benefit from it so long as they met certain qualifiers—they needed to be high-profile and high-class.

Which is bloody ironic if they're supposed to be a charity.

During our first meeting yesterday, I'd argued that the shiny gloss on a charity group shouldn't be a consideration but most members insisted that the Society needed to maintain a certain image in order to keep attracting the same deep-pocketed benefactors. 

Apparently, some of the benefactors only felt inclined to donate if they could get a nice, glitzy gala out of it that would put their faces on the society pages. 

I had to bite my tongue down, along with the stinging comment it was about to deliver. I reminded myself that they had a point, even if I disagreed with it, and that not everyone had the same motivation.

When I decided to take on the co-chairmanship for the Championettes, I’d sworn things were going to change. It was an admirable resolve but it wasn’t until yesterday’s meeting that I realized some changes were going to be slower than others.

Thus, screening through a huge stack of prettily-worded, scented-papered requests for this year’s winner.

At Rose’s frustrated whimper, I glanced up again and saw her pouting at her coloring book. 

“I went over the line,” she muttered, her shoulders slumping, her dark brown curls bouncing on her shoulders as her chin fell. “And I c-can’t erase it.”

I lowered the stack of paper and reached out to pat the little girl’s hand. “It’s alright, princess. It happens.”

“But I want it to be p-perfect!”

Don’t we all? Perfection seems to be the desired dress size we all strive to fit into, no matter how tight or uncomfortable.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Mattie said, picking up the magenta crayon Rose had been using. “It can be better instead.”

Rose and I watched in silent fascination as the boy followed the curved stray streak outside of the octagon and repeated the curly pattern until it completely surrounded the polygon. 

He handed the crayon to Rose who tentatively took it. “There. It was an octagon before and now it’s a flower, which is much better, don’t you think? Now you can color it more.”

There was a sheen of what suspiciously looked like happy tears in the little girl’s eyes as she nodded and smiled back at Mattie who was grinning at her.

If I didn’t believe in puppy love, I do now. I think Mattie just became some girl’s prince in her own fairytale.

“Thank you,” Rose said as she turned back to her coloring book and started filling the space in the petals that Mattie had drawn.

Mattie watched her for a few seconds before a faint smile crossed his face again and he turned his attention back to his sketchbook—one that had verses and lyric stanzas scribbled on the edges next to some kind of landscape drawing.

Damn these Maxfield men—they just have to be prince charmings and white knights and noble kings.

“Charlotte? I’m home.”

Speaking of my prince charming.

“Over here, babe,” I called out to him, twisting around my seat to smile at Brandon as he sauntered into the living room, tossing his suit jacket to a nearby chair.

I quickly appraised him and noticed the overgrown stubble on his face, the dark circles under his eyes and the taut line of his jaw.

He’d been working late—again.

In the last three days, he’d been coming home late, mostly with an excuse about work. 

I had no reason to distrust Brandon but this was the first time in the last several weeks since we’d been married that he’d let work keep him from coming home on time. It was also the first weekend he worked through.

I hadn’t said anything but it disappointed me each time he called to say that he was going to be home late.

He’s gearing up to be named the new CEO before the year’s done, Charlotte. Cut the man some slack. You married a very important and powerful man with big decisions to make all the time. Of course, he’s going to be busy.

Brandon told me that Martin had decided to step down before the holidays and officially hand over the role to him. 

I was very proud and happy for him, aware that despite my original feelings about the lofty title, it was one of the reasons why Brandon and I came together.

I only wished the pressures of the upcoming job didn’t cause him so much stress. He hadn’t complained once but the strain was easy to see in his weary expression and the tension in his body.

Two nights ago, I walked in on him turning his office inside out, his forehead wrinkling in concentration, his jaw clenched and his hair disheveled from having been pulled distractedly many times.

When I asked him what he was doing, he was silent for a moment before he shook his head and told me he just misplaced an important file.

If I hadn’t convinced him to abandon the search for another time when it wasn’t midnight and he wasn’t exhausted, he would’ve probably kept at it until sunrise.

“Hello, love,” he greeted gruffly before he leaned down to kiss me on the lips, his hand cupping my cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I murmured back to him as I turned my cheek into his palm so I could kiss the center of it. “The kids have been keeping me distracted.”

He smiled faintly and waved at Rose and his brother. “I can see that. This is a very domestic scene. All we need is a golden retriever and the TV on.”

I laughed as he slid down next to me on the couch, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt around the collar. “I should probably go put my apron on and heat you up your dinner like a good housewife. I made roast chicken.”

Brandon exhaled sharply and kneaded his temples. “Thank you but I’m not hungry. I’m tired and I have a headache.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. 

Suddenly, he looked every single one of his twenty-nine years. “I bet if I asked Freddy, he’s going to come clean and admit that you actually haven’t had any dinner. What’s with the diet, Brand? If you’ve got love handles or something like that, I don’t see them.”

His eyes met me, flickering with amusement as he leaned close to whisper in my ear, “I’ve got a completely different love handle, if you care to see it.”

I pretended to consider it. “Hmm, I’m not sure you could trust me with it. I broke off my bike handle once. Strong grip and all that, you know?”

Some of the weariness eased from his face as he chuckled softly. “Oh, I know all about your strong grip.”

My cheeks burned and I smacked him on the arm. “Let’s not corrupt the children, shall we? I’ll go make you a cup of hot chocolate. Maybe you can shower while I put these two to bed. It’s almost bedtime anyway.”

“Can’t we stay up, Shar?” Rose piped up, looking imploringly at me. “I still want to color.”

“Sorry, princess, but your Mom said you should be in bed by nine and you know how she is when people don’t listen to her,” I told the little girl as I rose to my feet. “I’ll go make you and Mattie some warm milk as well, okay?”

“Can I please have a cookie with it?” Mattie asked, his blue eyes shining hopefully. 

“Me too! Me too!” Rose put in, shooting her hand up and squealing when Brandon laughed and hauled her up to his knee. 

I smiled and watched as Brandon patted the spot next to him on the couch for his brother who scrambled over with his sketchbook. 

The sight of their three heads huddled together over Mattie’s drawing like a band of mischiefs made my heart clench with tenderness.

Maybe I should just forget all about waiting and give him babies. It’s clear how much he adores children.

I reminded myself of the reasons why Brandon wanted us to wait, and I sighed deeply and turned to the kitchen, knowing he was right.

It was rare that I ever found our age gap inconvenient but it definitely played a role in our family plans. 

If I’d been older, there would be fewer reasons for me to wait and see the world first—I would already have. If Brandon had been younger, I wouldn’t worry about him getting impatient waiting for his young wife to grow up enough to be a parent.

As Mattie said, it doesn’t have to be perfect. It can be better instead.

I made two cups of hot chocolate and filled two small glasses with warmed up milk. Then I took out some of the chocolate chips cookies I made earlier and put them on a small plate.

Balancing a wooden tray easily, I made my way back to the living room and handed everyone their drink.

“Thank you, love.” A warm, lazy smile broke out across Brandon’s haggard features as he bit into his cookie. 

“Is love your name too, Shar?” Rose asked, tilting her head at me curiously. “Or is it like when you call me pween-ses?”

Brandon and I glanced at each other before we laughed. 

“It’s like when I call you princess,” I told the little girl, brushing a hand down her curls. “It’s not your name but that’s how I think of you.”

Her brows furrowed together as she angled her head at Brandon curiously. “So you think of her as love? But love isn’t a person.”

Brandon grinned in spite of himself. “No, not really, but I call her love because I love her—I love her the most in the world.”

“Oh.” Rose’s eyes were round as she blinked slowly. “Oh. So who loves me most in the world?”

“I imagine a lot of people, princess,” I told her with a chuckle, tapping the tip of her nose with a finger. “You’re very lovable.”

“That’s right,” Brandon added with a firm nod. “Someday, someone will love you the most in the world they will want to always be with you like I want to be with Charlotte.”

“But I’m just four,” Rose said with a slightly crestfallen expression, holding up four pudgy little fingers. 

My heart constricted as Brandon and I exchanged alarmed glances, both unsure how to best address what Rose perceived as a tragic problem.

“That’s okay,” Mattie spoke up quietly, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling up at Rose. “He still has to grow up too.”

“Oh, my Lord,” I muttered under my breath as Brandon raised his brows at me in question. 

I rolled my eyes and shrugged because I was just as helpless about this as he was.

I set down my mug and clapped my hands together to call everyone’s attention. “Alright, kids. Time for bed.”

Brandon set Rose down before getting up on his feet and we both walked behind the two children as they headed for the guest bedroom. 

“Let’s go brush your teeth first.” I directed them to the bathroom where Mattie grabbed both their toothbrushes—because was Rose too short to reach hers—and squirted some toothpaste on each of them.

“I want some water,” Rose said, turning to Brandon and tugging on his pants. “Lift me up, pwees.”

And so in the next fifteen minutes, the four of us crammed inside the guest bathroom, Brandon and I supervising the children as they brushed their teeth and flossed. 

When that was finally done, we walked them back to their room and tucked them in their beds.

They were murmuring sleepy goodnights when we turned off the light and closed the door behind us.

We haven’t gone very far down the hall when Brandon grasped me by the hips and pressed me up against the wall, his warm breath fanning the side of my neck.

“Charlotte, I need you,” he rasped, his tongue darting out to trace the whorls in my ear. 

I smiled, a dark, sensual hunger flaring to life inside of me.

Despite his ever-constant sweetness, Brandon was mostly playful and demanding in bed. This wouldn’t be the first time he backed me up against something and literally pressed his cause.

“Shouldn’t you shower first?” I asked as he lifted me up in his arms, and hooked my legs around his hips.

“I want you,” he said hoarsely, catching the flimsy cloth with his mouth, blowing warm air through the thin fabric of my tank untill I moaned. “I’ll have you. In the shower. Now.”

I surrendered to the lust that was fast shooting fire through my veins.

He deposited me briefly inside the shower stall and made quick work of stripping himself naked.

“I’ve... I’ve already showered,” was my breathless murmur as I stood and watched the stark masculine beauty of Brandon’s physique. 

I swallowed hard. “Uh... I could always shower again.”

He raised those molten hazel eyes at me and the lust and desperation I saw there through the misty shower stream made me shiver down to my toes.

Something’s wrong. 

Brandon had a fierce sexual drive but there was dark longing in his gaze right now as he reached for me like I was a fast-fading light.

My clothes were practically ripped off of me and in a matter of seconds, I was lifted off my feet and pressed up against the cold slate tiles of the shower wall, crying out in half-pleasure, half-shock as Brandon thrust home with little finesse.

“Charlotte, my love,” he growled low into my ear as he pinned me against the tile wall with his rapid and relentless strokes, his teeth grazing my shoulder. 

“Brand,” I gasped mindlessly as I struggled to hang on to my sanity while he pushed me closer and closer to the edge. 

Wherever he is, he’s not here with me. 

Or maybe he was because as his climax neared, he barely muffled a hoarse shout as he reached for release.

“You’re mine, Charlotte,” he groaned out as he started shuddering uncontrollably. “Mine, dammit!”

Thought we already established that. 

I opened my mouth to tell him to stop and tell me what the hell was going on but his thrusts were getting deeper and rougher that I was soon sobbing out my orgasm, hanging on to his shoulder for dear life as my body shook and trembled in his arms.

“I will not give you up,” was his broken, barely audible whisper before he yelled my name and went completely still, his release spilling deep inside me.

Soon, the only sounds in the room were our ragged breaths and the soft splatter of the water against the tiles.

While that orgasm was spectacular, I felt like I just got dropped by a tornado into the Land of Oz.

“What the hell was that, Brand?” I finally managed, my voice cracking slightly.

He lifted his head slightly, his eyes almost glowing gold in the low lighting of the room. 

The tenderness in them was unbearable. “Did I hurt you, Charlotte?”

I shook my head. “If anyone looks like they’re hurting, it’s you. Something’s going on and you’re not telling me.”

He sighed and pulled away, reaching for some shampoo and raking it through his hair. “Because it’s not your problem, Charlotte. The last few days have just been stressful. I’ll snap out of it. I just need some rest and clarity.”

“Your problems are my problems too, Brand,” I told him as I stepped under the shower spray. I reached for some soap and lathered it slowly over his shoulders and arms. 

He raised a brow at me pointedly. “If there’s anyone who always shoulders their burden alone all the time, it’s you.”

I didn’t argue with that because it was true.

I knew it was one of my biggest weaknesses but I couldn’t help it.

I probably have a savior complex of some sort. If only I remembered to save myself, too, sometimes.

“I don’t want to just stand back and watch you suffer,” I said quietly. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

The stony determination in his face startled me as he firmly shook his head. “I’ll be damned if this becomes your fight too. It’s an old war I’m fighting, Charlotte. I won’t let you get hurt.”

“And I won’t let you bleed out for me,” I snapped, angry all of a sudden. “Don’t be such a damned hero, Brand. I’d rather spend my life with you than read about your tragic life in some musty history book.”

A small, faint smile ghosted over his lips as he leaned close and kissed me softly. “Don’t worry. It’s not going to come to that at all, Charlotte. You won’t lose me.”

I gritted my teeth but decided that this was going to be the most I’d get out of Brandon tonight. 

“I better not, Brandon Maxfield,” I said darkly. “I better not.”

I peeled myself off the wall and stepped out of the shower stall, grabbing a thick towel and wrapping it around my body as I stood there for a moment and let it soak up the water. 

I grabbed my clothes from the floor and dumped them in the hamper before going to the bedroom to slip on a peach-colored, cotton night dress.

Determined to calm my nerves, I tiptoed to the kitchen, briefly pausing to check on the kids.

They were sleeping peacefully—thank God for sound-proofed walls.

I didn't want to scar them for life by things they were too young to really know about. God knows we probably sounded like a pair of ticklish hyenas.

I filled a cup of instant chicken noodles with hot water—they restored my sanity and sense of emotional balance like nothing else could. 

Something was threatening my currently wonderful life and it ate at me to not know what it was—because I'd like to go and kick its ass to the curb.

I understood Brandon's reticence. He was just as stubbornly protective of me as I was of him. It was going to take a lot to crack his defenses and let me in on it.

It was going to take all kinds of persuasion but I was confident that Brandon was more than vulnerable to my charms.

In the silence of the kitchen, I finished my cup noodles, wondering if this was the calm before the storm. 

Uncertainty's like a hole that keeps opening in the sky, waiting to swallow you up. Either that or an alien portal. The latter at least sounds interesting.

I hated this sense of trepidation that would come out of nowhere every now and then.

My life was too good to be true that I often feared I would wake up and realize that it was all the work of my overactive and overambitious imagination.

Someday, you’re going to have to stop being afraid. What good are wonderful days if you only spend them worrying they wouldn’t last? That's kind of a waste, isn't it?

I let out a long, soft sigh before getting up on my feet and cleaning up in the kitchen.

I caught sight of Brandon’s discarded suit jacket on an armchair and picked it up on my way back to the bedroom.

Pausing, I lifted it to my nose and inhaled deeply, smiling at the familiar scent of him.

My stomach clenched at the thought of this torment he had been keeping to himself in the last few days. 

He had the look of a man whose wounds were festering. If left unattended, it could mean his death.

“Don’t be such a coward, Charlotte. Things will be fine,” I mumbled to no one in particular, pressing the jacket tightly against me. 

I frowned as I felt a sharp poke against my midsection.

I held up the jacket and felt it up with one hand, finding the stiff shape of a greeting card. 

I slipped it out of the inner pocket and draped the jacket on my arm as I read the handwritten address for Maxfield Towers on the back of the light blue envelope. There was no sender information on it at all but the pretty cursive was decidedly feminine. Since it was sent to his work address, I figured it wasn’t a personal correspondence.

Then why the hell is he carrying it in his inner pocket?

I held the card for a long moment, debating whether to stuff it back into his jacket or read it.

I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t. 

On the other hand, I needed every clue available to find out why Brandon’s been so high-strung the last few days. 

In the quest for my husband’s happiness, I’ll peek. The end justifies the means, right?

I sighed, knowing it really didn’t, but my fingers were already reaching inside the envelope and grasping the card. 

My brows knitted as I stared at the caricature of a house and a moving truck on the front of the card. In a comical font, ‘We’ve Moved!’ was printed right at the top of the illustration.

I flipped it open and the first thing I saw was the small, wallet-sized photo taped to the bottom right side of the card just right under the sender's new address. In the photo was a toddler with fine brown hair and hazel eyes.

Hazel eyes. Not quite the ones I’m intimately familiar with but hazel all the same.

My hand started to tremble as I forced my eyes away from the photo to read the note on the left, written in the same cursive as the address on the envelope.

Brandon,

I know you told me not to come to the city but it’s time we stop hiding. We can go on as we have without hiding like a dirty secret.

I’ll stay out of your way. You don’t even have to visit although it would be lovely to see you. 

You’re married now and I completely understand. 

Zach misses you though. He hasn’t seen you since his first birthday. 

He's speaking a little bit now, you know? Said 'Dada' last time. It was a bittersweet to hear. Someday soon, I'm going to have to tell him about his father.

In case you want to visit, we’re going to be at the first apartment you got for me. You know the way.

Take care, Brand. 

Nicole

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until it rushed out of me in one sharp, shaky exhalation.

I've never drowned but this must be how it would feel like—a heavy, oppressive weight on your chest, your lungs fighting for air, burning until they were near bursting, your temples throbbing from the painful pressure.

I stared at the note on the card through a film of stinging tears, gasping heavily as I tried to breathe.

It hurt. 

God, it hurt—like a knife was wedged deep inside me, making a crevice for itself in my heart.

The pertinent words seemed to float out of the script to fit together like puzzle pieces.

It explained a lot—his agitation, his late evenings, his evasiveness.

Brandon has a secret—one that's big enough to cost him your marriage. No wonder he's terrified.

Remembering his words earlier when he made those fierce declarations to me brought back the very fresh memories of the earth-shattering sex we just had.

I shuddered, suddenly conscious that he might have gone straight home from his mistress's bed and nailed his wife against the shower's tiled wall.

Bile rose in my throat and my skin crawled.

A storm of different emotions hurtled through me, leaving me even more breathless than I thought possible.

Grab on to something—anything. Don't let the currents take you.

Preferring a stronger emotion that would hold me up on my feet like a shot of adrenaline, I passed over the sense of betrayal and the raw pain.

White hot fury surged through me and I seized it instead. 

Before I could think better of it, I found myself striding down the hallway and flinging the bedroom door open, as ready as a missile launcher loaded, cocked and aimed.

But my target was sprawled on the bed, curled on his side, wearing nothing but a pair of gray boxer briefs, his damp, dark hair gleaming from the low light of the bedside lamps.

He was breathing deeply, his lips parted and his dark lashes feathered against the sharp planes of his cheeks.

He must’ve been so tired he just dropped unconscious on the bed.

That’s what you pay for a sex marathon with your mistress and your wife.

My teeth ground together in barely suppressed anger, my fists clenching before I remembered that I was wrinkling the card in my hand.

Get up, Brandon. Get up and fight me until I can’t feel anything anymore.

No words or sound came out of my mouth though.

I stood there, gazing at his sleeping form, half-ready to bring the house down on him and half-aching to tuck the sheets around him so he wouldn’t be cold.

A sound confused between a snort and a groan finally escaped my lips as I shook my head in disgust.

This was what I had been reduced to—a voiceless victim still tempted to offer what was left of her hacked off limbs to the man slaughtering her.

With slow, unsure steps, I walked toward the bed, gazing down at my husband—the same man who’d told a four-year-old girl an hour ago that he loved me the most in the world, and who’d savagely made love to me like a man about to go off to war at daybreak.

The card was damnably incriminating.

Every insecurity I’d managed to keep at bay in the recesses of my heart and mind surged in like a pestilence, eating away at any remaining shred of hope I was stubbornly trying to cling to.

Brandon wouldn’t lie to Rose, would he? He couldn’t really possibly be carrying on an affair with some woman he apparently has a son with, could he? He won’t deceive you like that.

My heart clenched painfully.

Unfortunately, deception was something he and I were equally skilled at—our marriage was proof of that.

He'd managed to fool his father whom he has the greatest affection and respect for. Would it really be that hard for him to do the same to me?

I remembered him laughing off my question when I once asked in the beginning of our scheme, if he had any children I should know about. He'd easily claimed he didn't but would he really admit he'd fathered a child if he wouldn't acknowledge him?

'It's an old war I'm fighting, Charlotte.' That's what he'd said. Maybe he was disputing the child's paternity.

Knowing Brandon and his soft spot for children though, I couldn't imagine him being cold and cruel like that to his own child.

Maybe it really isn't his and this Nicole is just foisting the boy on him for child support. Who better to fund your kid than a billionaire Dad?

I slowly opened the card again and studied the boy's sweet face, noting some similarity in the bone structure. And of course, the hazel eyes.

He was a cute and happy-looking boy. Even if he weren’t his flesh and blood, how could Brandon resist such an angel? I know I wouldn’t.

I sighed and slid the card back into the envelope, pressing my knuckles against my pursed lips as I debated what to do next.

A part of me was calling out for blood and another was doing a pep rally for Brandon’s trustworthiness—with cartwheels and handstands.

l desperately wanted to believe that this was just a badly written twist in the plot where a misconception gets blown out of proportion. It wouldn't be as unsalvageable as the possibility that Brandon had lied to me outright and carried on with his baby mama. 

Sure, you both schemed and lied. You're just as guilty of it as he is. Does that make you completely incapable of the truth then? Do a few mistakes define you for the rest of your life?

“Oh, Brand,” I whispered, blinking as a few hot tears spilled down my cheeks. “Will our lies forever haunt us?”

Deciding that I wasn’t one to pass on judgement without giving him a fair chance at explaining himself, I slipped the card back into the jacket pocket and draped the discarded garment on the back an armchair.

No matter how hard, show the same mercy you wish to be granted. When it's your turn to plea guilty, Charlotte, wouldn't you want a sympathetic jury?

It would be so easy to give in and let my rioting emotions flood the banks. It would be so easy to destroy the very best thing that happened to me with a few angry words.

You both have black marks on trust. Your redemption starts with someone taking a risk to trust you again. Be that someone for him, Charlotte. He deserves it.

Not knowing where the courage came from, I endured throughout the night—curled up in bed next to Brandon, unable to sleep, fighting tears, and wondering whether the memories we shared were lies or truths.

If a lie could be this beautiful, Charlotte, would you live it? Or would you rather have the truth even if it means losing Brandon? 

When sleep eventually claimed me, I still had no answers.

***

I felt like someone waiting on death row—dreading the final hour but anticipating my freedom from the endless wait.

I’d resolved to give Brandon a chance to explain but he was gone by the time I got up the next day. It was the first time we hadn't woken up and eaten breakfast together since we got married. 

While I'd admit it was rather late when I got up after the fitful sleep that eventually came over me, the coincidence made me more uneasy.

I was trapped.

I wanted answers and advice but the only person I could talk to about it wasn't around. I didn't want to go to Brandon's family and ask them. 

For one, I'd feel really pathetic being his wife and being the last to know about any of this. Second, if this was supposed to be a secret for a really good reason, I didn't want to jeopardize it by nosing around, especially with a little boy's welfare at stake.

After I did all my duties with Felicity, who was helping me become self-reliant in managing my social responsibilities since she was going back to school this fall for her masters, I took the kids out for lunch and then to the park for a couple of hours.

Normally, I would enjoy every moment of my time playing with them but my heart was tight as if a fist clenched around it, and my mind kept wandering off to Brandon's secret family.

I told myself not to make assumptions yet but while I tossed a frisbee around with Mattie and Rose, I kept thinking all kinds of things—just like someone suffering from sores couldn’t help but pick at them until they bled further.

Did Brandon hold his baby in his arms when he was first born?

Has he played chase with his son?

Did he sing lullabies to him until he fell asleep?

With a wretched sigh, I eventually forced the torturous thoughts out of my head. 

It was hard to remain objective and detached from the situation when doubt racked every conscious second I counted down to the moment I could finally confront Brandon and demand the truth.

I dropped off the children with their respective parents early in the afternoon and during the drive back to the condo, I sat in the back of the car in distracted silence, so much that Gilles, who normally didn’t say more than a handful of words in an entire day, asked awkwardly if I was okay.

I smiled faintly as I reassured him that I was indeed okay, wondering how long it would be before my despondency gave away my inner turmoil. 

I couldn’t afford for people to ask questions because I didn’t have ready answers of my own yet.

Maybe you shouldn’t just wait around for them then. Find them until you get to the truth.

“Gilles?” I asked my chauffeur. “Could you drive to Maxfield Towers and park close to where we would see my husband’s car leave the building?”

Gilles’s normally stoic expression turned puzzled as his eyes met mine on the rearview mirror. “You mean...”

I steeled myself. “I mean, park somewhere near Maxfield Towers where we’ll be able to see Brandon’s town car leave the building so we can follow it. It's Monday. He should be working his regular hours.”

I could tell the man wasn’t thrilled about the idea of tailing his employer. 

I wasn’t either.

I hated any kind of deviousness but for the first time in my life, I had a lot to lose and I couldn’t act hastily.

It was like knowing that getting in front of a speeding car would be a sure way to die—or get seriously hurt—but crossing the street anyway in the hope that you’ll make it to the other side without a scratch.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Maxfield,” the man started slowly, using the formal address I was still battling him to do away with. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I need to know I can trust him, Gilles,” I said quietly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

The man was quiet for a long moment that at first I thought he hadn’t heard me at all.

“Trust is no trust at all if you require conditions,” he said with a deep sigh that no more startled me than his words did. 

Tears stung my eyes as I turned away to stare out the car window. 

If I don’t protect my heart, I’d have none of it left to have and give. If I trusted with no reservations, I would’ve been shredded to pieces by my parents alone a long time ago.

Ten minutes later, Gilles parked by a spot along the sidewalk of a row of shops from across the east section of Maxfield Towers. 

It was about mid-afternoon and if Brandon followed his normal schedule, he should be out of the office in an hour. 

Gilles and I sat in silence as we waited even as the hour passed and there was still no sign of Brandon’s town car.

I was starting to feel ridiculous and was about to tell Gilles to maybe turn around and head back to the condo when my phone sounded off with a text message.

[I have some urgent work stuff to do. Will miss dinner and might be home late. Don’t wait up for me.]

I stared at the screen for a moment, my heart twisting painfully.

So I didn’t even get a call now? Just a mere text message. One day, I might stop getting any kind of courtesy notice altogether.

I was in the middle of typing up a reply when another line popped up in the message thread.

[I’m sorry. Will make it up to u. Date next weekend. Love u.]

I deleted the first few words of my scathing reply and typed a quick OK instead.

If you’re lying to me like I dread you are, there will be no weekend date. There might not even be a marriage any longer.

A sharp pain stabbed through me at that thought. 

How much could I accept? How much could I forgive? Will we be ever the same?

I shook my head as if it would physically rid my mind of the voices that were swarming me from every direction.

“Gilles, we probably should go—”

“I see him,” Gilles said at the same time and my heart slammed inside my chest as I glanced up and across the street. 

I recognized the car immediately. It wasn’t his town car but his sports car instead—the one he drove around on his own when he didn’t need Freddy about.

So, Brandon was working out of the office today. 

“Tail it, Gilles,” I said in a stony voice I hardly recognized as my own. 

When the chauffeur hesitated with a glance at me, I scowled. “I said tail it. If you won’t, I’ll grab a cab and go on my own.”

Without another second of delay, Gilles revved the engine to life and pulled out into traffic. 

We followed at a discreet distance, maybe a two or three car lengths, alternating lanes after a few blocks. If I weren’t so nervous, I would’ve asked Gilles whether he’d been some kind of clandestine operations agent or something similar before. It would certainly explain the non-expression expression he always wore.

Not before long, we were getting into Southie (or South Boston). It was a vibrant area—full of history and character being among America’s oldest neighborhoods.

Looking around the street name signs, I realized in dismay that we were near the address stated in that card from Nicole.

‘The first apartment you got for me. You know the way.’ That was what she said.

My stomach clenched like I ate something very bad.

We approached a block of charming, tightly huddled townhouses and saw that Brandon’s car had pulled up in front of a tall but narrow brownstone townhouse. 

Gilles parked discreetly at the end of the block behind an old station wagon, on the other side of the street the townhouse was at.

From where I sat, I could see most of the front steps and the sidewalk right along it. 

I didn’t want to see anything that would confirm my worst suspicions but I couldn’t tear my eyes away either.

“Again, I ask that you reconsider, Mrs. Maxfield,” Gilles quietly said. “You might think you’re looking for reasons to trust him but we both know you’re looking for reasons not to.” 

I bit my lip as I leaned forward to watch Brandon’s car. “Don’t they mean the same thing in the end?”

“They do,” he answered bluntly. “Either way, it means you already don’t trust him.”

I glowered at Gilles despite the pang of guilt I felt at his statement. “You know, it was so much more convenient when you weren’t saying much.”

Gilles gave me a half-smile. “Since I’m the only one here with you, I feel compelled to point out what you already know but you’re stubbornly ignoring.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Insolence is what I get for being so nice to my staff.”

The chauffeur’s smile deepened this time. “No. Concern is what you get for being so nice to your staff. None of them want to see you get hurt.”

Even reluctantly, I felt myself smile when a movement from Brandon’s car caught my attention.

My heart resumed its nervous, ragged beating as I watched Brandon emerge from his car and pull something out—a huge plush panda.

He was just rounding his car when the front door of the townhouse opened and a woman stepped out, holding her arms out to him.

Tears stung my eyes but I blinked them stubbornly away, refusing to miss any bit of the truth that was being revealed before my very eyes.

Nicole.

She was a small woman, maybe only a couple of inches taller than me, but she had a daintiness about her—from the fine, shoulder-length brown hair pulled back by a white headband to the pale green sheath dress she was wearing. She was actually quite beautiful, her smile broad and sunny as she came down the steps to greet Brandon in a tight hug. Brandon’s back was to us so I couldn’t tell whether he was simply pressing his face next to hers as one would in a normal hug or he was giving her hickeys. They were embracing long enough that it was possible.

My breaths were coming out sharp and choppy as I continued to helplessly watch the train wreck in slow motion.

Brandon wrapped his free arm around her with genuine affection, his face lighting up with a smile as he stepped back to look at her.

They both looked up from their excited conversation when a blur of motion came through the front door and materialized in the small form of a boy who latched himself to Nicole’s leg as he looked up earnestly at Brandon.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as I watched my husband bend down and touch the boy’s head, grinning at him indulgently.

Of course you knew he was going to be a good father. If only you knew as well that he was already one.

He was telling Zach something that made the boy’s face brighten up and loosen his hold on his mother’s leg. 

Brandon handed him the panda, which looked almost bigger than Zach, and waited as the boy stared at it with a mouth rounded in curious delight. Brandon laughed when the boy put his arms around the toy for a quick hug. He suddenly turned to Brandon and awkwardly put his free arm around him in a similar hug before he staggered up the steps with fierce determination to manage carrying the panda on his own.

Pain seared through me as Brandon and Nicole shared an amused glance before Brandon laughed and scooped up Zach with one arm and walked him up the steps with Nicole at his side.

In a matter of seconds, they were gone from my sight.

The pain though—the slow, steady stabs through my heart until it was bleeding everywhere—stayed with me.

“I want to leave now,” I said hoarsely as I sagged back into my seat. “Now, please.”

I took deep, long breaths to calm myself and hold it together but my hands started trembling as I tried to literally rub the pain away from my tightening chest. 

“Charlotte?” Gilles asked warily as he turned the engine on. 

Now he was using my first name? Nothing like witnessing someone's pain and humiliation to get personal.

I lifted my eyes to meet his and through the film of tears in my vision, I saw him wince.

“I don’t need your damned pity,” I choked out just as sobs started to rack my shoulders. I pounded on my chest with a clenched fist, trying to stop them but I only felt more suffocated. “Just get me out of here!”

We flew out of there but after only a few minutes, the car stopped.

Through my gasping sobs, I looked up as the door swung open and Gilles poked his head in. 

“Get out,” he said. 

If there was a good time for my bulldog of a chauffeur/bodyguard to leave me alone as he usually did, it would be now. 

“What do you want?” I snapped, grabbing my hair. “Just do your job, goddammit, and get me home!”

Home? Do you mean the penthouse where you’re living out your farce of a marriage?

“Oh, God,” I moaned as fresh tears coursed down my cheeks. “I don’t even have a real home anymore, do I?”

“Get out, Charlotte,” Gilles repeated stubbornly.

I glared at him. “I swear, Gilles, I’m going to kick your—”

I yelped as he grabbed my wrist and unceremoniously dragged me out of the car. I stumbled onto a patch of grass and nearly fell if he hadn't caught me by the elbow.

“Now, shout until you get it all out,” he ordered, standing back. “Or go hit something. Get it out before it eats you alive.”

My sobs came to an abrupt halt as I blinked several times and saw that we were in a piece of scrubland somewhere in an industrial area. The weeds were tall and the alleys around it were devoid of people.

"Shout," Gilles prompted.

I straightened and gave him a wary look. "People will think you're murdering me if they hear me screaming."

That didn't perturb him as he shrugged. "Then make it quick before anyone can hear you and come running."

I sniffed, dragging the back of my hand across my wet cheeks. "You're not doing a good job of copying this from the movies, you know? This doesn't feel as dramatic as I'd imagined."

"I never claimed to have a dramatic bone in my body," he answered, leaning against the car and crossing his arms. "But if this stops you from having a panic attack, then do it."

My heart dropped back down into my stomach at the reminder as I walked forward a few steps and started kicking some small rocks around. 

"I'm not going to shout," I told him in barely a whisper. "I can breathe now."

We were both quiet for a long while and I was alright with that.

There were hardly any words within my grasp that would accurately describe my acute suffering.

I picked up a handful of small jagged rocks and started throwing them, harder and farther with each new attempt.

The violence of my emotions ebbed away slowly, emptying out of me until I could see the yawning void they left behind.

"While I agree that what you saw didn't look good, I have a feeling it isn't the whole story," Gilles finally said as I bent down and scooped another handful of rocks. 

I paused and glanced at him over my shoulder. "You're very eager to give Brandon the benefit of the doubt and believe that he has a good explanation for all of this. I know he's your boss but why would you do that for him?"

A small smile broke over the man's face. "Because that's what you taught me—and a lot of other people who know you, Charlotte. I know it's not easy for you when it hurts a lot but if there's anyone who deserves your faith more than the rest of us, it's your husband. He loves you. Everyone with eyes can see it. Hell, even a statue will probably get a heartbeat just being near the two of you."

I couldn't fight the trembling smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. 

"Oh, Gilly," I said with a small, weak laugh, dropping the rocks and dusting my hands off. "That was way better than getting me to scream my head off like I was being hacked to pieces by an ax murderer. Thank you."

He nodded gruffly and smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

“I promise to let Brandon explain,” I told him as I turned back toward the car. “Can you take me home?”

“Yes.”

“Can we stop at Sugar Box for a dozen of those mint-chocolate chip cupcakes?”

“Yes.”

“Can we grab a case of beer?”

“No.”

“Damn,” I said as I climbed inside the car. “It’s alright. I never figured out why people worsen their suffering by gulping down what smells like cat pee.”

I smiled when I heard Gilles try to smother a laugh as he slipped back into his seat and started the car.

I felt a rush of gratitude. 

If he hadn’t distracted me, I probably would’ve completely shattered to pieces.

Brandon loves you—so much no one could miss it even if they wished to. You have to believe, Charlotte. Trust that you can mean that much to someone. Trust that you’re worth it.

It was a gamble with the odds not looking in my favor at all.

But love required risks—the only way it could mean much was for it to mean everything to you. 

With Brandon, it was all or nothing.

*** 

“Who are Nicole and Zach?”

I had a whole script memorized as to how I would approach Brandon but civility was easier planned than done. 

Any preliminaries I had ready were swept clean from my mind at the nearness of the man I loved desperately but whose secrets kept him oceans away from me at the same time.

I watched and waited as Brandon’s hand paused midway to his mouth with a forkful of scrambled eggs.

It was the next morning and this was the first time I’d seen him since spying him at Nicole’s front steps yesterday afternoon. I’d gone home and gone through the motions until I hit the bed. He must’ve crawled in much later after I was asleep and he was already up and showering when I woke up this morning.

He didn’t raise his eyes to meet mine. 

He seemed suspended in time for what felt like eternity before he continued with his breakfast and chewed slowly. At the rate he was going, you’d think he was chewing on rubber.

Just like the thick, heavy weight of lies on your tongue.

My fingers tightened around my own fork and it took a lot of my nearly-depleted self-control to keep from snapping at him. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear my question, Brand. They don’t go away just because you ignore them.”

Finally, he swallowed, reaching for his glass of orange juice and downing at least half of it. The wait for him to say something, anything, seemed interminable.

That bad, huh.

“How do you know about them?” he asked slowly, his expression tight and inscrutable.

“I don’t,” I answered shortly. “Which is why I’m asking you.”

Brandon sighed and sat back in his chair, tossing his napkin beside his plate. “They’re not your concern, Charlotte. I’m taking care of it.”

The dismissal actually stung and I was already as raw inside as I could manage without starting to bleed out. 

“Oh? What, are you renting a U-Haul truck?” I snorted, passing off a sound that sounded like stone scraping together as a laugh. “Should I wrap-up a housewarming gift?”

Brandon grimaced but he was doing an amazing job of not letting my sarcasm provoke him. The fact that he had so much control was antagonizing me further.

"As I said, I'm taking care of it," he said emphatically. "Don't concern yourself with this. It has nothing to do with you."

I slammed my clenched fist down on the table. So much for my attempt at civility. 

"You have a son and you're possibly still sleeping with his mother and it has nothing to do with me?"

His eyes widened as my words sank in. He reached out and clamped a hand on my upper arm, none too gently either, and I tried to shrug him off.

"Charlotte, no. God, it's not that!" he exclaimed with a look of sheer panic on his face. "Zach isn't my son and I've never been romantically involved with Nicole."

The blood rushing to my ears stilled as I narrowed my eyes at him, afraid that his confession was actually just buffering a truth worse than the one I'd imagined.

"Explain the panda."

He blinked. "Uh, the panda was a stuffed toy I gave Zach—wait, how do you know about the panda?"

I opened my eyes to answer but I stopped short when I realized that to explain was to admit that I followed him yesterday.

"Did you spy on me?" he asked, his own eyes narrowing.

I raised a brow. "Spying would imply it's a secret. And it is a secret, isn't it, Brand? One you don't care to share with me."

"Should I bother when you're just going to go nosing around for it anyway?" he asked sharply. 

Seething openly now, I glared at him. "I wouldn't have if you'd trusted me enough to tell me what the hell is going on."

"The way you trusted me to know what I'm doing?" he countered, his cheeks flushing with anger and his eyes bright with intense emotions. "Don't you think that I'm doing my best to look after everything, after everyone?"

I paused and looked at Brandon closely. "What are you looking after, Brandon?"

His agitation eased at my softened tone and he met my gaze for a long time before sighing and slumping back in his seat. "Nothing that I can tell you right now, Charlotte. But you have to trust that I'm doing what's best, not just for us, but for those who are caught in between."

"Caught in between what?" I persisted, reaching out and grabbing his hand, desperate to unburden him from whatever it was that was slowly snuffing out the light from inside him. "Let me share your load, Brand. Whatever it is, I can take it."

He gave me a sad smile and squeezed my hand. "You've had the world on your shoulders for a long time, love. The last thing I want is to keep you from spreading your wings and soaring high into the sky."

I pressed my lips together to keep my stern expression on even though his words, and his rare and exclusive inclination to always keep me happy and unfettered, tugged at my heart. "Do you know why birds fly in a V formation? Each bird helps in reducing drag and spreading out the flight fatigue among the flock during the long journey. They take turns leading the flock and bringing up the rear so that the burden isn't solely shouldered by a few." 

Brandon's mouth twitched in amusement. "I didn't know you were so well-versed in the behavior of migratory birds and such."

I shrugged. "I didn't have a lot of money in high school to buy books so I ended up reading my textbooks a lot if I didn't have anything borrowed from the library. I read what was available and they weren't always a bunch of romance books."

"I'll build you a library," he said quickly, his voice catching a little. "Any book you want, as many as you'd like."

Oh, Brandon. One moment you’re breaking my heart, the next you’re holding it in your hands like there’s nothing more you cherish. 

I sighed slowly and shook my head. “I know you can give me the world, Brand—even the moon and stars, if I really want them—but I’d trade them for your heart in an instant. I want all of it—the ugly bits and pieces, the beautiful parts that make up your love—there is no part of it I don’t want to know about.”

Brandon’s hazel eyes pierced mine with an intensity before he reached out to gently brush the back of his hand across my cheek. “You have all of it, Charlotte—even the parts I’m afraid to surrender. In fact, if I look closely, I bet I’d find you in the place of my heart—you two are the same thing to me as far as I’m concerned.”

Brandon’s touch seared me nearly as much as my own guilt did at his words.

Despite what I said, I suspected that he wasn’t the one withholding parts of his heart, clinging on to them in persistent fear that someday, when this happy, shiny world burned to the ground as most happy, shiny worlds did, he would survive with the crumbs he held on to stubbornly. 

“You have nothing to fear about Nicole and Zach,” Brandon assured me further, cupping my face and pressing a kiss on the spot just between my brows. “I have a responsibility to them that I’m trying to fulfill. I’ll explain when the time is right but for now, no one else is supposed to know about them—not even you.”

Tears clogged my throat but I forced myself to swallow them so I could speak, even with a choked voice. “If Zach had been indeed your son, I want you to know that I would have gladly accepted him, and love him as much as he’s able to let me. What drove me crazy was the possibility that you were still carrying on with his mother behind my back—having your own little family on the side.”

Brandon pulled back and frowned at me. “Why in the world would you ever think I’d do something like that?”

Tears clung to my lashes and I blinked them back only to drop them against my cheeks. 

Well, there was no point avoiding it now when I already gave away too much.

I brushed the back of my wrist against my damp cheeks. “Because my mother did it.”

Before I knew it, I was hauled over to Brandon’s lap, his arms circled around my hips, his expression grim but determined—like we were on a lifeboat and a really strong current was about to slam over us.

I swallowed hard a second time as I forced the truth out. “When I was sixteen, I was home one weekend and watched a regional spelling bee. They interviewed the winner—a bubbly eleven-year-old blond girl with glasses and braces—and shots of her school mentors and family and friends cheering her on were included in the feature. Her mother was an uncanny look-alike to mine. I did the math in my head and figured out the truth. Mom left and started a totally different nest to hatch a completely different egg barely a breath after she scampered out the door. Either that or she already had an egg warming up to hatch before she even left.”

“Oh, Charlotte. I’m sorry,” Brandon murmured softly, touching his forehead to mine.

I shrugged casually—a little too casually. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault. It’s not that girl’s fault either. Her name’s Natalie. I would’ve liked to have known my sister but I don’t imagine she knows I exist—or know that much of what her family’s founded on doesn’t really.”

“Have you tried to contact your mother? Or your sister?” Brandon asked. 

I shook my head. “Nah. I was quite angry when I realized the truth even though I was hardly surprised. But they both looked happy and I didn’t think they needed the extra complication in their lives.”

“You’re your mother’s daughter, Charlotte,” Brandon said with a scowl. “You’re not just a complication in her life. You’re her responsibility.”

I felt the familiar sting of the reminder and remembered why I usually never discussed my mother.

But there was no help for it now. Brandon needed to understand why panic gripped me at the thought of him having a secret family on the side. 

“I was clearly one she didn’t want to be saddled with,” I said dryly, biting my bottom lip. “I will not inflict myself where I’m not wanted, Brand—not like this anyway. She has a new family and maybe she’s trying to do this right the second time. I don’t want to get in the way of it.”

Brandon’s arms tightened around me as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “But don’t you need your mother? I know I did for a while after mine died but I was fortunate to have Evelyn around after that.”

I smiled at his admission, one he probably didn’t make to a lot of other people, even his father. “A mother would be nice but it’s not worth reopening those old wounds or creating new ones, especially for her new family. If she’s a better mother to my sister, and possibly my other siblings, and they’re happy, I’d rather have one family have the fairy tale childhood than for two to have none.”

“It’s alright, love,” Brandon murmured, cupping my face and kissing my cheek softly. “We’ll have our fairy tale and we’ll have a happy family with lots of smiling, well-loved children when the time comes.”

I smiled indulgently at him. “You sound so determined, I’m scared to even wonder how many children exactly we’re talking about.”

“As many as you want,” he answered with a crooked grin. “I want our home to be filled with laughter and happy memories.”

Pressing my lips together, I slid my arm around his shoulders. “If we’re going to have our happily-ever-after, Brand, we need to conquer all the ghosts and demons that continue to torment us.”

His smiling expression sobered. “I know, love. We can only pretend for so long that they’re not there, haunting the halls.”

For some reason, I sensed that there was a wealth of meaning behind Brandon’s metaphor.

“You’re not the only one who can slay dragons, you know?” I told him gently. “What I lack in size and strength, I make up for in sheer determination.”

Brandon laughed softly. “I know. But if the dragon breathes fire, there’s more than just you and me within striking distance. Give me a few days, Charlotte. I need to figure some things out and get them settled. There might be a way for all of us to win in this battle.”

I looked at Brandon as he gazed off into the distance, aware that the gears in his mind were moving and devising logical calculations to work the situation to his advantage. 

He couldn’t help it. Brandon was a problem-solver and he usually didn’t share.

Give him what he asked for. You’re just as guilty in fighting your battles on your own. You both have to learn to share the load and one of you needs to start first. Give him a chance to fight and realize that he can do it better with you at his side.

“Alright, Brand,” I said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll give you a few days. If things aren’t still going well then, I’m marching in with reinforcements.”

======

So, what do you guys think? It's a common cliche (how's that for redundancy) for her to confirm her worst suspicions without getting an explanation but as is typical with Charlotte, she went about it a little differently and I think that in spite of this mystery about Nicole and Zach still unsolved in this chapter, Charlotte and Brandon ended up somewhat closer and stronger.

What do you think about Mattie and Rose? That was just a little something to keep our romantic hearts ever hopeful that happily-ever-afters could take years in the making.  And what about Charlotte's scene with the ever stoic Gilles?

Let me know. And vote and comment!

Here's another song from one of my current fave artists... I thought this kind of fit Charlotte's torment in this chapter. 

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Where I Stood by Missy Higgins ♪♪♪

I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none

There were sounds in my head
Little voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening

'Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don't know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
'Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

======